Wednesday, January 2, 2019

This post is part of the monthly blog hop/therapy session known as the Insecure Writers Support Group, founded by the one and only, Alex J. Cavanaugh. If you're a writer, insecure, or just supportive of writers—insecure or not—please join us. It happens the first Wednesday of each month.

It would be sweet of you to visit at least a dozen or so new blogs and leave a comment. Your words will be appreciated.

The awesome co-hosts for this month are Patricia Lynne, Lisa Bule-Collard, Kim Lajevardi, and Fundy Blue

January 2 question - What are your favorite and least favorite questions people ask you about your writing?

Hmm?

Let me see...

The last time anyone asked me about my writing...

Was a loooooooog time ago.

It’s OK, though...

Guess they’re uncomfortable still asking the same question:

“Are you published yet?”

But there is one who still inquires about my writing...

It’s my granddaughter!

She just turned sixteen and at her tender age...

She has penned some awesome pieces herself.

Hmm?

Maybe, just maybe...

I sparked a flame in her creativity years ago...

When I used to babysit her and my other two grandkids?

Everyday at naptime they always chirped...

“Grandma! Tell us a story!”

Mind you, these stories weren't from a book...

But rather impromptu tales...

Of Egyptian mummies that came alive... Lost kingdoms where strange creatures roam... Castles with real vampires... And of course ghosts, and monsters.

But while they loved these stories...

My two daughters did not.

“Mom, please stop telling the kids scary stories. It’s hard enough getting them to bed as it is, but now we have to
convince them that there are no monsters or mummies lurking in the house.”

“But they ask for scary
stories,” I said in defense.

“Mom, they’re kids; you should know better. From now on only tell
them happy stories about princes and princesses.”

“Fine,” I said, not appreciating being scolded. Or edited.

Well, I kept my word and told only happy stories...

But those new tales did not fly with the grandkids.

“No grandma! We don’t want to hear about stupid princesses!

We want
scary stories. Tell us more about the mummies!”

“Well, your mommies won’t let me,” I said...

As their little faces drooped with disappointment.

When they got a bit older...

I only watched them occasionally on weekends...

Yet they still persisted...

“Grandma! Tell us a story. Tell us about the mummies!”

Well, one weekend I caved.

“OK, but you have to promise me that if I tell you, you won’t be
scared at bedtime, got it?”